Blackbird
by Tala Mitena
Summary: Axel hadn't counted on it. Roxas couldn't see it. Riku had become bored with it. And Sora was just trying to find it again. Multiple Pairings.
1. Where Fears and Lies

Author's Note: I know I should be working on something that is not new, like Second Sky or Face or whatever, but I needed a break from those, so I churned out this. It's a prologue, of sorts, to a new fic. There are quite a few pairings, so I wasn't sure what to list this as, so I went with the good ol' Riku/Sora. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I think we all know that I do not own Kingdom Hearts.

* * *

**Blackbird**

_ Chapter One: "Where Fears and Lies"_

* * *

When Axel met Roxas, he was bored. He was mind-numbingly bored – to the point where cracking knuckles and picking at split ends and drowning himself in Johnnie Walker just didn't help anymore. 

And so, with his empty head, and idle hands, and fraying strands of hair and drunken breath, he lifted himself from his tag-sale couch and stumbled into the real world. He stumbled blindly into reality, and when the boredom-Novocain, and the scotch haze wore off he found himself in the center of his nowhere town, staring up at a sign which read "Sanctuary".

Not even he could miss the irony of it.

And maybe it was the irony, not the boredom, that compelled him to push at the door, hoping, with some small corner of the heart he swore did not exist, that it was not locked.

It wasn't. It swung open easily, and Axel lazily surveyed the interior, shivering in the electric warmth of an overactive heater.

On both sides of him, small, circular tables and matching chairs lined the walls. His sharp, emerald gaze followed their path further into the room.

Gleaming wooden floors…spotless glass guarding decadent cakes and pastries…more tables…

And, behind the counter, a mess of blonde hair and sharp, pensive blue eyes.

The first thing Axel thought of was how familiar those eyes were.

And then, he thought of…

"We're closing soon," the familiar-eyed boy said with a lazy sort of verbal bite, "so if you want coffee or anything, it's now or never."

Nothing about the kid's tone reminded him of anything.

But, damn, those eyes…and that impatient little pout.

"Right," Axel muttered, walking up to the counter and digging right into those eyes with his own.

He was bored.

"You make Irish coffee?"

"We don't have a liquor license."

"Then no Irish coffee?"

"No."

"Axel."

"What?"

"Axel. My name is Axel," he drawled impatiently, "Got it memorized?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, the blonde snorted, "What kind of a name is that?"

"What's your name then, huh?" Axel snapped.

"Roxas."

"Roxas," Axel found himself completely incapable of doing anything but repeating the name, and through repetition he found that he could not, to his disappointment, hate it. "Not much better, but I kinda like it."

"Sure. So…?" Roxas arched one blonde brow and cocked his head to the side.

"So what?"

"Coffee?"

"Triple shot cappuccino. Super dry. Cocoa powder on top."

With an exasperated half-sigh, Roxas slumped on to the counter and growled. "I just finished cleaning the espresso maker."

"Then it's guaranteed I won't have any leftover grounds in my cappuccino," Axel replied smartly.

"No, it's guaranteed you won't have any cappuccino."

"Now that's just not fair."

Roxas glared at Axel, his eyes ruthlessly blue and familiar, and still pensive.

"Do you always look like that?" the redhead inquired.

"Like what?" the blonde ground out.

"Like you're thinking about something else?"

Roxas's shoulders rose and fell with an apathetic sort of gracefulness, and Axel decided that he liked the way the kid's shoulders curved into his neck.

"If you wanted a cappuccino, you should have come earlier."

"I didn't even know this place existed until just now, okay?"

"No need to get defensive," Roxas muttered.

"I'm bored," Axel offered as some demented explanation.

"So you come to get coffee? If you're bored, a triple shot of espresso will kill you."

"Then give me something else to do with my bored little mind, kid."

He smirked, and Roxas's eyebrow rose once more. His pensive eyes studied Axel for a moment, his impatient pout returning as his expression relaxed a little.

"Okay," he almost snapped, hopping onto the counter and sliding off of it, landing neatly beside Axel. Their shoulders brushed briefly, and the redhead delighted in Roxas's swift withdrawal.

"I thought you were closing up?"

"That apathetic-grace shrug appeared again as Roxas headed towards the door.

"I'll blame it on Marluxia. Bastard left early tonight, and is about to get fired anyway."

"I like your way of thinking," Axel replied with a laugh.

He was bored. He had been for quite some time, and he would be for a good while to come.

But he was planning, and Roxas just might prove mildly interesting.

* * *

When Sora met Riku, he had no idea what hit him. Seeing Riku's face as they passed on the street was like walking into a brick wall and falling backwards into the warm, tropical water of his eyes. 

And as Sora was drowning, his brick-addled brain not able to recognize it as such just yet, a pretty girl with violet eyes and a half-hearted smile walked by with her pretty, fateful purse.

And the next thing Sora knew, he was being dragged off in the opposite direction of his destination by one of the many straps on his overly decorated pants.

His tropical ocean was sucked dry with an almost audible slurp then, as he stumbled after the violet eyed girl, sputtering for breath and groping for her attention.

When she stopped, he thanked God – under his breath, of course – and reached out to tap her on the shoulder.

That was when a faceless passerby, who may or may not have been Fate, knocked into the girl, sending her reeling sideways.

Sora was sure he was about to drown in concrete as everything slowed and he spilled forward.

Somewhere in the not-concrete distance, a pretty girl with a sticky purse shrieked and a pale, strong arm invaded Sora's vision as it snaked around his waist.

Reality ground to a halt as he steadied, both feet firmly planted on the concrete he had almost drowned in once upon a time, far, far away and long, long ago.

He turned, his thanks hanging in midair, still a breath waiting to be inhaled and muttered into words.

But it fluttered away, off into reality as Sora drowned again. Instead he breathed in sweet water, warm and clear.

When Riku met Sora, he smiled and mouthed the words, "you're welcome."

"Ohmigosh! I'm so sorry!" the pretty girl with violet eyes and a half-hearted smile cried, unhooking Sora from the strap of her pretty, fateful purse. "I am so, so sorry! I didn't realize…"

She paused, took a deep breath, and held her hand out to the boy she'd caught, like a drowning fish, and her smile was maybe about three-quarters hearted now.

"Kairi," she chirped.

The little, drowning fish smiled up at his ocean and whispered, "Sora."

"Riku," was the silver-haired savior's reply, soft and hushed like waves on warm, white sand.

Kairi blinked her sweet, amethyst eyes.

When Kairi met Riku and Sora, for the first time, she might as well have barged in on them in the bedroom.

"You okay, Sora?" Riku whispered with a slight smirk.

Sora shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling with a grace that was filled with silent meaning.

"I could be better."

"There's a nice little café just down the street. Coffee might help."

"Coffee would definitely help."

Neither noticed as Kairi and her purse disappeared into the crowd as they crossed the street.

When reality came to rest around him again, Sora found himself looking up at a sign, which read "Sanctuary".

He smiled, as Riku pushed the door open and ushered him inside.

On both sides of him, small, circular tables and matching chairs lined the walls. His soft, sapphire gaze followed their path further into the room.

Gleaming wooden floors…spotless glass guarding decadent cakes and pastries…more tables…

And, behind a counter, a mess of blonde hair and sharp, pensive blue eyes.

Sora tensed. Something about that sharp gaze reminded him of…

"I like yours better."

That soft crash of wave on warm, white sand again.

"What?"

Riku nodded towards the familiar-eyed boy behind the counter.

"His blue is too sharp, too harsh, I like yours better. Calm, deep, sincere. Like the ocean."

Sora blushed and looked questioningly up at the silver-haired, silver-tongued savior.

"I'm an artist. It's my job to look at things," he offered as some sort of explanation. "I have a few paintings in an exhibit that's opening tonight. Would you like to accompany me?"

The brunette blinked slowly, "But…"

"It's an _art_ show, Sora. No one there is going to care, or even be remotely surprised, if my date is another guy."

Sora laughed, and he watched as Riku drowned in the bright, cheerful sound, and Sora drowned right along with him.

Three years later, Sora was still drowning.

And he would have given anything to know how to save himself.


	2. Quite That Simple

Author's Note: Alrighty, so, here's the next chapter of Blackbird!! Just to clear one thing up that might be a little confusing...the two meetings in the first chapter occured three years apart. At this point in the story, Riku and Sora met three years ago, and Axel and Roxas met yesterday. Sorry if that was a little confusing.

* * *

**Blackbird**

Chapter Two: _Quite That Simple_

* * *

The first thought that entered Axel's mind that morning, when he woke with a slender arm wrapped around his waist, was simple enough. 

When Axel woke with Roxas at his side, still sleeping and tangled in the redhead's limbs, his only thought was to leave.

After all, Roxas was just a distraction from Axel's boredom. If Axel got bored, he found a distraction. Usually, this distraction was, of course, a fling, a one-night-stand.

Sometimes, when Axel was really, really bored - so much so that the scotch and the split ends and the cracking knuckles and the fling weren't enough - he would go so low as to find someone who looked particularly naïve and vulnerable, and he would hurt them.

There was something about Roxas's expression, those thoughtful eyes and that impatient little pout, that had caught Axel's eye, made him seem like an especially good target.

And so Axel found himself wrapped in this boy's sheets and arms and legs, and hoping that Roxas was not a light sleeper.

He sighed, silently, wriggling slowly in an effort to escape, lips pursed and nostrils flared in concentration. It was not long after Axel started this maneuvering, that he realized it would be difficult not to wake Roxas.

As expected, he did not succeed.

"You're leaving?" Roxas mumbled, his voice groggy and slurred with sleep as he blinked his sharp eyes at the older man and moving himself out of Axel's way.

"Yeah," Axel replied with a snort. Sitting up and leaning over, he groped at the floor near the bed, searching for the pile of rough fabric that was his jeans.

In reply, Roxas shrugged and rolled over, sighing heavily and pulling the blankets tightly around his lithe frame.

"Good," he said gruffly, "I didn't really want you hanging around for long. I've got a lot to do today."

Leaning back on the bed, Axel struggled to slip into his tight jeans, slamming his head on Roxas arm and trying to pretend it was an accident.

"Gee thanks, kid," he grumbled, frowning. This wasn't going how he planned. He wasn't supposed to be here when Roxas woke up, and Roxas most certainly was not supposed to be happy about his leaving.

"What?" Roxas practically snapped, sitting up and glaring with his sharp, pensive eyes at the emerald-eyed man, whose head was resting heavily on his arm. "It's not like you went into this thing thinking it would last. Did you really expect me to be so oblivious to that fact?"

Axel blinked, rolling onto his stomach and looking up at Roxas.

"What makes you think I didn't want this to last?" he growled as he rose onto his knees and crawled slowly over the boy, the slant of his smirk and the glint of his eye almost feline. Shoulder blades rolling backward as he sank down to hover inches above Roxas's lips, his smirk widened and he breathed out slowly against the blonde's cheek. Every inch of him, every pore, oozed affirmation, but inside he was praying that Roxas would take the bait.

He would see this through to the end. No matter how long it took, he would hurt Roxas. Axel never left anything unfinished.

"The fact that you went into this knowing it would be a one-night stand," the blonde snorted stubbornly, pushing up on Axel's chest with his elbow, "whether or not _I_ wanted it to be."

Narrowing his eyes and clutching at his ribcage - which he was sure Roxas had just bruised with his pointy little elbow - Axel growled low in his throat and flopped to one side, sprawling out on the sheets with a hefty sigh.

"Which, I did," the boy added, pouting sullenly and pushing a lock of his bedraggled hair out of his face.

Axel's gaze was instantly drawn to those eyes again, and his drive increased. It didn't matter that those baby blues of Roxas's were harsh and sharp, scrutinizing and analyzing rather than soft and sincere.

Roxas's eyes, Roxas's pout, reminded Axel of Sora.

And so, Axel's boredom, Axel's desire to emotionally destroy the kid, increased.

"Well," he drawled, rolling off of the blonde boy with a mockingly wistful sigh, "Maybe I've changed my mind, mmm?" As he hummed suggestively, he tiptoed his fingers up Roxas's shoulder, dragged them along the curve of his slender neck and nestled the tip of his index finger in the hollow of the boy's dimple.

"Really, now?" Roxas growled, swatting at the older man's hand, rubbing at his offended cheek as if he could erase the dimple that had apparently called so longingly for Axel's attentions.

"Guess I was a better lay than I thought," the blonde drawled, exasperation dripping from every syllable.

Axel laughed in what he hoped was an affirmative manner. If he couldn't catch Roxas in his little, haphazardly woven web, if he couldn't hurt this kid…

He'd have absolutely no idea what he'd do then. This was how Axel had lived for the past two years. He'd swung from heartbreak to heartbreak with a wide grin and a light heart.

Ever since Sora, he'd felt the uncontrollable need to hurt others. He was pretty sure it made him a sociopath to some small degree, but he didn't really care. Which, sadly, led him to further belief that he was a psychopath who emotionally preyed on young boys with big blue eyes and stubborn pouts.

"I have changed my mind, Roxie," he reiterated, glancing over at the boy and softening his voice and expression.

Roxas snorted and turned onto his side to avoid the surprisingly alluring emerald gaze.

"For some reason I hesitate to believe you," he grumbled in a sleepy tone that Axel assumed meant the boy firmly intended on returning to sleep with the hope that when he woke, this time, Axel would be gone.

"What can I say?" the redhead crooned with an easy shrug. "There was a real connection, you know. Like we were _one_, Roxie."

Roxas repeated his indignant snort.

"You don't believe me?" Axel cried, making sure he sounded just as offended as he was indifferent.

"You're hardly the type that says something like that," Roxas mumbled, not bothering to roll over and face the other man.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, for one thing, you've got a dick. And for another, you are a dick."

Axel growled and rolled onto his side so that his back was pressed up against Roxas's and sifted through his mind for an excuse, some sort of escape from the current situation.

"Get out," Roxas stated after a long moment, his voice void of any tone or emotion or anything readable.

Finding his mind empty for the moment, Axel sat up and leaned over, grabbing his black zip-up from the floor and putting it on with no intention to find the black t-shirt that had been worn under it the night before. If nothing else he conjured up flew, then at least he could come back for his shirt and try again.

"Fine. But this ain't the end kid," he grumbled. "I know where to find you, and I also happen to know that you secretly find me irresistible."

"Yeah, sure. Go."

As Axel rose he glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand next to him. It's neon green numbers read 7:48. Out of pure curiosity, and perhaps a splash of scorn, he pressed the small button labeled "alarm" and watched as the numbers briefly switched to 8:00.

With a flick of his wrist a switch slid, the small indent in its center now indicating that the alarm had been turned on.

So with a smirk and a saunter Axel exited the apartment, content in the knowledge that he would ruin the damn kid's day once again in a mere twelve minutes.

* * *

When Axel entered Sanctuary for the second time, he did so with the intention to find out when Roxas was next on shift.

He walked right on up to the counter with his hands in his back pockets and he smiled charmingly at the young girl on duty.

"You wouldn't happen to know when Roxas is coming in next, would you?" he crooned, hoping his smile didn't look anywhere near as maniacal as it felt.

"You a friend of his?" the girl asked, pushing a short lock of dark hair out of her dark eyes and surveying him with a small smile.

"You could call it that," Axel drawled, delighting in the short, appreciative laugh the brunette gave in return.

"I don't know, sorry. I can find out for you though?"

"Could you?"

Nodding enthusiastically, the girl walked around the counter and disappeared through a door marked "employees only".

"Squally!" he heard her call in an obnoxious, sing-songy tone.

"Get back to work, Yuffie," came the gruff, distance muffled reply.

Axel shot a quick laugh through his nose as he heard Yuffie's feet stomp stubbornly against the hardwood floor.

"I _am_ working! I need you to ask you a question."

"Prying into my personal life is hardly considered work."

"I'm not prying this time! Promise!"

"Can this wait until I get up there, Yuffie? I'm sure the customers would prefer not to hear your yelling."

"Fii-iine," the girl sighed as she slipped through the door and back into Axel's vision.

"The owner'll be up in a minute," she said apologetically, "He'll know when Roxas is working."

"I should hope so," the redhead muttered under his breath, stepping away from the counter to wait and listen for the creak of mounted stairs.

It wasn't too long before his keen ears picked up on the sound of footsteps, each one becoming louder and clearer before a tall man with broad shoulders and long, neatly layered hair emerged from the stairwell.

He wore a simple white tee, under a short-sleeved leather jacket, which was unzipped to reveal a pendant in the shape of some odd lion-headed cross. Over tight leather pants, three or four belts were slung loosely around his waist, clinking together as he walked past Axel, who arched an eyebrow sharply and examined the man's expression.

It was a gruff expression, one that warned even the bold redhead to try to be as un-bothersome as humanly possible. Stormy eyes surveyed their surroundings carefully, meticulously, making sure every coffee pot, every bean, was in its place.

Narrowing his eyes, Axel attempted to peer past the wisps of mahogany hair that fell across the man's brow, swearing he could catch a glimpse of a scar every once in a while, cutting across from a point just above his right eye down to just below his left.

And there, in his hand, held with the delicacy required when handling a newborn, was a chocolate cake, thick with icing, drizzled with caramel and ringed with brownie crumbs.

If this man had been even an ounce less intimidating than he was, Axel wouldn't have bothered to stifle the chuckle that threatened to fly from his thin lips.

As soon as the brunette entered the main café, Yuffie jumped up to scuttle over to him and carefully take the cake. As she moved with slow, lumbering steps towards the small refrigerated case at the opposite end of the counter, her employer spoke.

"What was it you needed to know?" he mumbled, his words barely discernable as he bent over to grab a nearby bundle of empty coffee sacks.

Axel was sure that if he took even a nanosecond to admire the way those pants fit, the brunette would know, and Axel would die.

Yuffie nodded curtly in the redhead's direction as she popped up from behind the case.

"Customer came by looking for Roxas, wants to know when he's on next," she explained matter-of-factly, all jest and cheer gone in the face of her boss and the customers that lined up behind her as another girl with long, brown hair that flipped out around her face, frantically prepared drinks.

"Olette couldn't answer that for you?" the brunette said, his tone nearing what Axel would have considered to be growling.

"Nope, sorry Squall. Roxas is pretty tight-lipped about his schedule," the second girl called over her shoulder as she slid a drink across the marbled emerald counter.

With a long, weary sigh, Squall turned to Axel and answered.

"Roxas will be in tonight. His shift starts at three and we close at ten. You can catch him any time between."

His words were crisp and his tone clearly indicated that if the redhead was not seriously considering ordering something, he should leave immediately.

"Now, if you two are set here, I'm going home. I've got somewhere to be in about an hour," he continued, returning his attention to the two girls.

"That new art show opens today, right?" Olette asked cheerfully as she stood at the register, counting out an elderly man's change.

"Right," the brunette confirmed curtly.

"Ooooh! That's the one with the new set of paintings from that guy you like, huh?" Yuffie crooned, all business left behind as the store emptied of customers. "What's his name again…Ri…something?"

"Riku Higure," Olette finished.

Axel froze, his brows pulling together and his eyes narrowing in interest and something similar to anger.

"That's the one!" the dark-haired girl cried, snapping her fingers together and smiling, "He comes in here a lot, you know."

"No. I didn't," Squall replied, turning quickly and disappearing out the back door without a word of passing.

Axel watched as the two girls relaxed, posture slouching and mindless duties slipping away instantly.

"So, Riku comes in here a lot?" he asked softly, his emerald eyes scrutinizing the two as they picked at nails and split ends.

Olette nodded.

"He and his boyfriend, Sora, are pretty frequent customers," she murmured sweetly.

"They had their first date here!" Yuffie chimed in, her statement directed more so at the other girl than at Axel.

"Really? How cute!"

"Mmhmm! It was about three years ago and they met, like, three seconds before they came in. I watched it all happen right across the street."

"As adorable as that sounds," Axel drawled disdainfully, "I really can't stay to hear this sappy little love story."

"Alright then," Olette said, smiling and waving brightly. "I'll let Roxas know you came by."

"No," Axel snapped, whirling around to face the girl before regaining his composure and grinning awkwardly, "I…uh…I want to surprise him. So, keep it a secret for me would you?"

"Sure thing!" Yuffie chirped, suddenly standing at attention and saluting him smartly.

"Right…" he muttered, turning quickly to stalk out of Sanctuary and make his terse way down the street towards his apartment.

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Axel half sighed, half growled, gnashing his teeth and glaring at the grimy sidewalk.

He'd known that Sora had taken up with Riku rather quickly, but _that_ quickly?

He acknowledged the fact that this Yuffie girl was most likely quite prone to exaggeration, but she _had_ said she'd witnessed the whole thing.

"Damn it," he grumbled, thrusting his toes into the pavement with a swift kick.

Sora had griped and bitched and moaned and groaned endlessly, and then he had turned around and hopped into Riku's pants in a matter of seconds!

And to top it all off, there was the damned café.

He'd stumbled into Sanctuary and Roxas in order to escape Sora, and then him and that damned faggot boyfriend of his ended up being regulars.

Axel's mind raced through thousands of scenarios, and he briefly considered dropping this whole thing, just walking away and accepting the fact that Roxas would not be hurt.

After all, if he did pursue the blonde, he'd end up in Sanctuary quite often, and chances were he'd run into the happy couple.

But tonight…Riku was busy. The owner of the café had mentioned that the bastard had a few paintings in a show opening tonight. Riku would be there, and Sora would be there and Roxas would be in the shop without either one of them in sight.

Tonight was safe, and so Axel decided that he would try once more to break the kid's spirit. He would strut on into Sanctuary and convince Roxas to carry on with this thing, and once that was through, once Roxas was in deep with no hope of getting out, Axel would simply disappear.

And that was where it would all end.

It was that simple.


	3. Enter a Noisy Street

Author's Note: I kind of get the feeling that a lot of readers think this is a happy fluffy story. So, just be warned: This fanfic is purely angst. If anything seems happy, it's only because the angst is still hiding. It won't be for long.

And as another note: Yes. Sora does call Riku "babe". Shut up. It's freaking adorable.

* * *

**Blackbird**

_Chapter Three: "Enter a Noisy Street"_

* * *

As the last complimenting crowd filtered past and silence settled on the vast space of the gallery, Sora heard Riku release a long, relieved sigh. Turning towards his lover, the silver-haired painter spoke, his expression taught and strained with worry.

"So," he asked anxiously, "what did you think?"

Sora smiled to himself, reaching out to gently take Riku's hands. His boyfriend always did this. After every one of the five art shows Riku had been featured in since that fateful day on the sidewalk, he'd asked Sora for his opinion.

"I think you're amazing and I don't deserve you," he murmured, pushing away a stray lock of Riku's filigree hair.

"Sora," the older man chided, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of the brunette's hips and drawing him closer, "you know that's not true."

Both men smiled as Sora shifted to press gently against his lover. Humming contentedly, he slipped his hands into the back pocket of Riku's dark slacks, resting his head on Riku's shoulder.

"I loved all of it, Ku. I always do."

What Sora loved most about their little after-show ritual, was that he never had to lie.

"I feel like I'm losing it," Riku sighed, burying his nose in Sora's silken hair and tightening his grip on the boy.

The brunette frowned softly, twisting his fingers in the hair at the nape of his boyfriend's neck. Riku had been saying that a lot lately, and it worried him.

'I feel like I'm losing it,' Riku would say.

Or, 'I don't feel inspired.'

Sora hated it.

After the second showing Sora had attended with Riku – the first he attended as his boyfriend - the artist had started this ritual by asking the brunette what he'd though. Then he'd said something that had assured his grasp on Sora's heart.

"They're all of you," he'd said.

None of them were actually paintings of Sora, but he'd understood. He was Riku's inspiration, his muse.

But now Riku felt uninspired, and it was absolutely tearing Sora apart. If Riku felt uninspired, where did that leave him? What did it say about their relationship?

"You've still got me, right?" the younger man stammered hesitantly. He hoped Riku's answer would be reassuring, but dreaded that small possibility that it would not. "As long as you've got me, you'll be fine."

Sora made no effort to disguise his anxiety, and his boyfriend did not miss it. His expression melted swiftly into one of bewildered self-berating.

"Sora," he drawled apologetically, "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry." As he spoke he pulled away to place a soft kiss at the corner of his lover's mouth.

The brunette vaguely remembered a time – a single incident – when kissing Riku had tasted bitter. The silver-haired man had been working on a new painting, and it was eating all of his time. When he'd finally managed to pull away from it to spend some time with Sora, Sora had imagined that as he kissed him, it was draining away all of his inspiration.

"I know," Sora murmured, smiling awkwardly, "I was being silly, that's all."

Riku opened his mouth to chide the younger man, but held back his words as a final viewer passed by, making his way out of the gallery. The two lovers stepped away from each other, clasping hands and smiling at the stranger expectantly.

Sora surveyed the man, and felt his smile falter. He was tall, with careless chestnut hair and grey eyes, cold as steel yet soft as brimming storm clouds. His gaze sent tiny, nervous shivers through Sora's body as the smaller brunette furrowed his brows at the man's attire. He was dressed only in leather, his pants clinging to his muscular thighs and the collar of his short jacket was trimmed with fur.

As Riku's grip on Sora's hand loosened, the latter's distrust of this second brunette increased. He was attractive, yes – very attractive. Yet there was something about him, Sora just couldn't figure out what it was.

He seemed gruff, and cold, but beneath all that, Sora could not find a spark of hope. This, he realized, was why he did not trust the man. He'd always been able to find that spark, in everyone he'd ever met.

He'd even managed to find it in Axel.

When this stranger spoke, Sora was surprised by the low, soothing sound of his voice.

"Good," he said, Riku smiling and opening his mouth to give thanks in response, "but not your best."

At those words, Riku's smile only widened, and Sora found one of his own. His boyfriend always hated the courteous, polite compliments. He thrived on people's critique, on the rare occasion that they were bold enough to voice them.

"Oh?" the artist asked, "What would you say was?"

Without hesitation, the tall brunette replied.

"A few years back you showed a collection in Serendipity Bay. Sanctuary"

Riku and Sora exchanged a quick, knowing glance. They agreed. Sanctuary was the collection Riku had started working on just after he'd saved a drowning, blue-eyed boy from a sticky purse and an ocean of concrete.

"Sanctuary, really?" the silver-haired man inquired, anxious to hear the second brunette's critique.

The other man nodded. Sora watched silently and stepped closer to Riku.

"It was your use of color. Sanctuary was very soft, quixotic. This one seemed very garish."

As Sora looked up at his boyfriend, he could see that Riku was obviously surprised; maybe even a little offended by the comment. However, after a moment his expression changed to one of contemplation.

"I think…I wanted garish."

Brows furrowing, Sora regarded the artist nervously, his azure eyes wide and bewildered. He didn't know what that comment had meant, but he felt the third man's gaze travel to him, and decided it meant something he would not like.

"Have you been to many of my shows?" Riku asked as the stranger's eyebrow arched sharply, possibly contemplating why anyone would want garish.

Sora coughed softly, trying to remind Riku of his presence, but the bright-eyed man made no reaction to the sound, only waited for the third's reply.

"Most of them," he answered, his gaze turning back towards Sora, who was fidgeting nervously, fingers flying out to grab at the painter's sleeve.

"Then I'll see you at the next one."

Sora thought that Riku's words sounded more like a demand than a question.

"Most likely."

"I'll try not to disappoint you next time."

As the words hit air, Sora experienced a familiar sensation, in which the comfortable ocean he'd been floating in for years was suddenly sucked away, landing him in heat and dry sand. His lowered eyes instantly fled upwards, where they clashed with storm clouds.

This second brunette had heard it too, the sudden absence of warm water on soft white sand, the jarring silence of Sora's desert. He'd heard it, and he seemed to be just as bewildered by it as Sora was.

But neither spoke of the sound. The stranger merely turned to walk out the door, as Sora stood still and felt his stomach churn.

Riku remained unaware of it all as he watched the older man disappear. There was a smirk splitting his lips, and it vanished just as the man did, replaced by a thin, expressionless line. His voice was flat as he spoke.

"They're all of you, Sora."

The blue-eyed boy searched the recesses of his heart and mind, and could not decide if he wanted these paintings to be of him.

Before he finished searching, before he could decide, Riku turned to him, that confident smirk making a brilliant return as he offered Sora his hand.

Without hesitation, without thought, and without a smile, Sora accepted it, allowed his still-savior to lead him out into the darkened city streets. The elder offered a gentle, reassuring squeeze and a soft, affectionate kiss as they moved, and yet Sora still did not smile. Something was off. Something had crept into the carefully guarded, tranquil spaces in their relationship and curled there, bloated and unfitting. It did not belong with them, yet there it was.

Sora wondered if Riku could feel it too. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

When they exited the building, a pale, slender hand stretched across the air, waving back and forth as it's owner called out excitedly.

"It _is_ you!" A young woman cried as she hurried over to them. Her long auburn hair and amethyst eyes seemed familiar, but the happy glow of her wide grin prevented Sora from placing her name.

"It's Kairi," she explained upon seeing the couple's confused expressions, "from when you met."

Both men blinked, unable to recall that anyone else had been involved in the incident.

"The girl with the purse," Kairi continued, her excitement just as evident as before.

Sora instantly, though vaguely, remembered the purse that had caught him, and the girl with the half-hearted smile who'd owned the bag. She seemed happier now.

"Right!" he chirped, shaking away his precious thoughts. A glance at Riku showed that the other man did not remember Kairi at all.

The girl's already wide smile stretched further as she continued.

"I've been looking for you two for years! I had no idea how to even start, but last night I saw this thing on the news about a 'Riku Higure' on the news. I had no idea if it was you, but I guess it is!"

Still grinning, she pushed aside a stray lock of russet hair and waited patiently for a response.

Sora had no idea what to say. Riku didn't seem to care. His attention was clearly focused elsewhere, his bright eyes following the curve of the street.

"Anyway," Kairi chirped, completely unfazed by the lack of reactions, "you guys are still together, right?"

Riku snapped back to life then, smirking and snaking an arm around his lover's waist. He stamped a wet kiss on Sora's neck as the younger man mumbled something about the act being inappropriate. The redhead only laughed, her button nose crinkling a little. Sora noted that if he were straight, he probably would have found her attractive.

"I'll take that as a yes," she giggled, "So…uh, if you guys aren't busy…"

Sora frowned and looked up at his boyfriend, who clucked his tongue apologetically.

"Actually, we're about to head over to the after party. It was great seeing you again, though."

The brunette hated the way Riku had said that. He'd sounded too relieved, and Kairi blinked at him, puzzled.

And Sora was overcome with renewed paranoia. Every part of him was stricken with the fear that Riku only wanted to go to the after party to see if that stranger was going to be there. It wasn't an unlikely possibility. The man had said he'd been to a lot of Riku's shows.

And Riku had sounded so smug, so sure of himself when he'd promised not to disappoint at the next showing. He'd sounded exactly the same when he'd asked Sora to join him for coffee three years ago…

"Riku," Sora whispered, leaning in so that Kairi would not hear, "I just want to go home, please."

Riku frowned, raising a hand and placing it tenderly on his lover's forehead.

"You all right?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm just tired, that's all."

"Can we at least make an appearance? It'd be best for publicity, reputation and all that."

Sora cast a worried glance at the girl, who had turned away to politely concentrate on something else.

"Babe, can we please just go home?"

Riku frowned again.

"Ku…" Sora knew he was whining, but whining always seemed to work with the artist, who smiled apologetically in reply.

"Alright, we can go," he paused to kiss Sora's brow quickly, "but I need coffee. We're gonna stop at Sanctuary on the way, okay?"

Sora nodded as Riku turned to the redhead, who was humming softly to herself.

"Hey Kairi? We're actually going to head to get some coffee quickly. Would you like to join us?"

"That'd be great!" The girl chirped, whirling around and skipping towards them.

Smiling, Sora felt a little at ease now. If Riku had been so easy to lure away from the after party, then perhaps there was no reason to worry about that stranger. And Kairi seemed like a sweet girl.

Something about the way they walked together, Riku and Kairi easily falling into a friendly conversation, lightened his spirit. He could really see the three of them becoming quick friends.

But that bloated thing that had invaded their relationship purred, and Sora's mood was dampened once more.


	4. Delicious Things

Author's Note: So, um, wow. It has been almost exactly four years since I've updated this. I do not expect any returning fans, as such, however, in the very unlikely case that you read this four years ago and are super pumped or super pissed or whatever…here is what I have to say:

To be perfectly honest, Kingdom Hearts – and thus my fanfiction – wandered out of my life a while ago. I was no longer inspired by it, and I did not really care to continue my fanfics. However, I recently experienced a great urge to play through Kingdom Hearts again. Which I am currently doing. And which, of course, gave me a great urge to continue my fics. I always get little urges every once in a while, because some of the scenes and storylines I'd planned out for them seem really exciting to write, or are very close to my heart...but these have been passing, and I've moved on to focusing on my original works much more.

But now, these stories have crept back into my heart and my notebook. So, here goes. I cannot promise this renewal of inspiration will last long, but we'll see…I apologize to any returning fans who have given up on this fic, or were upset by its disappearance, and I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter.

Also, please forgive any changes in writing style that may seem incongruent with the last three chapters. It has been four years, after all.

* * *

**Blackbird**

_Chapter Four: "Delicious Things"_

_

* * *

_

When Axel had sauntered in to Sanctuary for the second time that day, he had not expected Roxas to be happy about it, but neither had he expected to be greeted by nothing more than the black tee he had left in the blonde's apartment. As soon as he'd found himself within range, Roxas had ducked behind the counter then jumped up and flung the shirt at Axel without even a glance.

The red-head fumbled with the garment, nearly dropping it on the ground before he slid up to Roxas and waited patiently, his usually solemn expression cracked with what he hoped was an alluring grin. In reality, it was probably too eager. There were not many people in the café – Axel had purposefully come just before closing time – yet, Roxas diligently focused his attention on some small task or another for a good while before finally turning back to his visitor.

"Really?" was all he said, throwing down the rag he'd been using to clean the countertop and raising a brow at Axel.

"I just wanted my shirt back," Axel said innocently. Anyone else would have believed him.

"You've had it for about five minutes now, so…"

Scoffing, the red-head decided to skip the games he'd had planned and get right to the point. "Go out with me sometime." It was not a question.

"Ha, no." Roxas leaned forward, rested his elbows on the counter between them, cupped his chin in one hand. He was smiling, so Axel smirked. Whatever Roxas might otherwise have to say about it, he was enjoying being pursued like this.

Axel also leaned forward, sliding his hand close enough to just barely flirt with the boy's elbow. When Roxas did not move to break contact, Axel said, "Ha, yes."

Tilting his head to one side, Roxas pursed his lips thoughtfully. The expression was such that all the lines of his face drew Axel's eye to the soft swell of the blonde's bottom lip, and Axel nearly choked on his own saliva. Clearing his throat to cover this, he took a slow step backwards, retracting his fingertips from Roxas's skin.

When Roxas pouted _just so_, he looked too much like Sora.

The blonde straightened, crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Axel with that sharp, pensive stare of his. Something about Axel's change in demeanor had interested him, and so the red-head was careful not to let on to having picked up on this.

"Maybe," Roxas conceded with a quick smile. Axel was ready to gloat, but the barista's attention had been grabbed by the short jingle of bells at the door. They both turned to watch three new patrons enter Sanctuary.

Axel blanched, and his throat dried. He did not recognize two of the people, but he was willing to assume that the smug man with long silver hair and cheekbones you could cut diamonds on was Riku. The slim brunette practically stitched to his side was, after all, Sora. There was a girl chattering behind them, smoothing her auburn hair, but Axel did not have any guesses as to who she was, as he was not paying one lick of attention to her.

Since visiting Sanctuary earlier that day, Axel had devoted a good deal of time to convincing himself that he would not run in to Sora here. It was impossible, he'd told himself, because he and Sora were like oil and water; cosmically repelled each other. It simply could not be physically possible for them to be in the same room anymore. The universe just couldn't allow so much hatred and hurt to exist in such a concentrated space.

And yet, here they both were under one roof. Sora with his new boyfriend, and Axel desperately grabbing at a chance to forget the brunette who had just wandered back into his life. The café suddenly seemed too small, a closet holding just him and Sora, with walls slowly closing in on them and a rapidly depleting supply of oxygen.

When Roxas turned to ask Axel to wait, the red-head had already hustled to the back door. He heard the blonde shouting for him to wait, but he didn't. Couldn't, really.

Axel did not particularly enjoy the idea of expressing – or experiencing, for that matter – any strong emotion, but if there were one he'd have pegged as the most useless, inconvenient, and devastating feeling of all, it would have been guilt. He avoided it as much as possible, and in general did a damn good job of this avoidance. Unfortunately, there was one thing that made it absolutely impossible to feel perfectly innocent, and that was Sora.

Sora could make Axel wallow in oceans of guilt. He could do what no other power on Earth, or in Heaven or Hell could. He could make Axel hate every cell in his body, regret every action he had ever taken.

He let a slow sigh slither out of his lungs as he sat heavily on a picnic table in back of Sanctuary. He raked his fingers through his hair and tugged lightly at the strands, leaning back and rolling his eyes to the stars. Finally, he wondered if he would ever forgive himself for what he'd done to the brunette.

It was only a short time before he heard the door to the café open, then click shut again. He watched Roxas pull off the forest green server's apron he'd had tied around his waist and hang it on the doorknob. In a moment, he was sitting next to Axel, staring unblinkingly.

"What was that all about?" he asked, sounding surprisingly disinterested as he produced a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it with a lighter from his pocket. When Axel did not answer, Roxas shrugged, and instead said, "You smoke?"

Axel did not know how to respond. He'd quit recently but the blue tendrils of Roxas's second-hand smoke were wafting past him, then that pleasant sting and that addictive bite were seductive ghosts in the back of his throat and the bottoms of his lungs.

The blonde had been watching his expression carefully and snickered with understanding. He took a long, heavy drag, then slowly maneuvered until he was straddling Axel's lap. Roxas's fingers curled in the fine hairs at the nape of the other man's neck, tilted his head back as the barista smirked and pried Axel's mouth open with the pointer finger of his free hand. He leaned forward until their lips were just barely touching then, finally, breathed out – a smooth, slow breeze of smoke.

Axel inhaled, and waited only long enough for the nicotine to hit his blood before he hastily exhaled and grabbed the back of Roxas's neck, pulling him close enough for a proper kiss. The boy laughed as their tongues swept against each other, but made no move to pull away, and in fact responded to Axel's efforts eagerly.

When they finally broke for more than a sneaking gasp of air, Roxas rolled his bruised lip between his teeth and, with no discernable expression, said, "Your place. I don't want you to be able to leave this time."

Laughing, Axel nodded and the two of them stood. He did not ask questions when Roxas's hand slipped into his own – nor did he ask (or worry) about the fact that the blonde was abandoning his post at Sanctuary. He simply enjoyed the anticipation of the silence that hung between them as they walked to his car and as they drove to his apartment, Roxas's hand on his knee.

Inside, they stumbled to the couch, struggled with buttons and zippers, and were together once again. The first time, last night, had been – as far as Axel cared to recall – reckless and desperate. Now, they fit together smoothly, worked laughingly past small fumbles and awkward noises. And after, they curled into each other, murmured drowsy teases, and slept.

* * *

He was not very surprised when he woke up the next morning to find that Roxas had left. Axel only laughed, then walked to the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal. His lighthearted mood did not prevent him, however, from craving Johnnie Walker. Not to mention a cigarette.

The early spring air was still cool enough to bite at his cheeks and nose, so he downed some scotch and started the walk to the nearest corner store with that warm, alcoholic buzz in his veins. He thought about Roxas nearly the whole way. About the way Roxas's hair felt between his fingers, the way Roxas's lower lip felt between his teeth. He had to stop himself from continuing this train of thought before it led to some rather inconvenient circumstances.

When he reached the store and the cashier told him how much a pack of American Spirits cost, Axel laughed.

"Bastard," he muttered. It had been directed at Roxas, but the clerk gave him a dirty look and so Axel laughed again as he walked out the door. On the way home he enjoyed his first cigarette – in entirety –in almost three years. He could not count how many he had started smoking then crushed out after two or three puffs when the thought occurred to him that perhaps it was the smoking that made him such a horrible person.

But he had to admit, as he retraced his steps back to his apartment and recalled the way Roxas's smoke-filled breath had billowed in his own lungs, that it was while smoking that he enjoyed life most. Maybe it was because the scent and the taste brought him back to high school summers spent driving fast down long highways, windows down, music high, and going nowhere. Or, maybe – more likely – it was because he'd never quite beaten the nicotine addiction.

It wasn't until he'd arrived home, finished another drink, and lit another cigarette that Axel made two discoveries.

The first: Roxas had forgotten his cell phone. Axel had found it peeking out from beneath the couch, where it had undoubtedly been dropped and kicked, after the hurried removal of their pants. Smirking, the red-head used it to dial his own number, and then saved Roxas's in his phone.

After formulating a plan to return to Sanctuary for the third time in as many days, Axel had his next epiphany.

It followed a particularly enjoyable drag of his cigarette. The first cigarette had only left Axel's nerves jumping for a second, and the second had left his throat feeling dry and swollen. It wasn't uncommon, he remembered, swirling his tongue in his mouth to coat it with saliva and soak up the remaining taste of tobacco.

And then there it was, echoing in his mind as if it were being said aloud that very moment; a memory of Sora complaining about the way smoke lingered in Axel's mouth, about how very much he hated the taste of it. Sora had been the reason Axel had quit smoking in the first place.

Immediately, he thought to smoke the rest of his pack and go out and buy another, just to spite Sora. In practice, he only managed to power halfway through before he started to feel sick and curled up with a glass of water, cursing his ex's name.

Axel furrowed his brows as he realized it was the first time he had thought of Sora since the brunette had walked in to the coffee shop the night before. Despite their physical similarities, Roxas had prevented all thought of Axel's ex-boyfriend. During sex, Axel usually found it difficult not to recall Sora; his hands, his pert little mouth. In fact, last night was likely the first time he had not made any comparisons to Sora, had not made requests that would render his current lover's technique more akin to Sora's.

The realization was not as momentous as he had hoped it would be.

* * *

"You forgot your cell-phone," Axel said with a smirk as he pushed the device across the counter, into Roxas's waiting hand.

"Did I?" the blonde asked, shrugging as he tucked it into his back pocket. There was a small smile on his lips.

The other man looked around. The café was crowded; he'd decided not to wait until nightfall this time. It was a decision he now regretted. There was a very slim chance of scoring a back-alley make-out session this time.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I'll call you sometime," he continued with a wink.

Roxas let out a hearty laugh, startling his coworker – a blonde girl that Axel had not seen there before. As he left, he thought again of Sora, and decided that Roxas had been a fool to let his guard down.

Really, they both had.


End file.
